


redux

by freshia



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Other, angsty.... humor, i dont write angst what am i doing, reader is an adult
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-13
Updated: 2015-11-17
Packaged: 2018-05-01 12:04:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5205236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freshia/pseuds/freshia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You remember everything. Your only wish was that at least one other person would, too.</p>
<p>//</p>
<p>"You’re not surprised this time when you wake up in the patch of flowers. This had to be some sort of test. Maybe, if you did something different, time would not start over."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

“You don’t have to do this.”

His words pierce right through you, not that you’d let him know it. Despite that, your grip tightens on the knife in your right hand. There’s a drop of sweat that rolls down his skeletal face.

“Come on.” he eyes the knife. You resist the urge to hide it behind your back, or tuck it into your dust-covered pocket. “ _It doesn’t have to be this way._ Not now.”

God, your head hurts. Throbbing, even. _Not now_. He’s right-- isn’t he? But no, you’ve done this so many times, there’s--

no other way?

You meet his eyes. It hurts, because you recognize a flash of _something_ in them that pulls at your heart. But you’re so far gone by now, it’s almost ironic-- who was the real _monster_ here?

You give Sans the Skeleton a peaceful smile.

x

You can only vaguely, barely remember the first fall. It's happened _so_ many times now that your memory could be faulty anyway, images blurring together like a watercolor painting. You were fearful, uncertain, and you barely make it out of the ruins alive. Already, you can recall thinking you’d lost your mind-- maybe you really had.

You can’t even hardly bring yourself to look at the skeleton when he introduces himself-- _Sans_ , he says-- the image of a walking, talking, animated skeleton being too much to swallow. His brother isn’t any easier to look at, but maybe a little more human shaped. You’re not sure if that’s better or worse.

You put up a good fight, but you trip while trying to run away from a Snowdrake, and your body collapses in the snow.

You don’t even make it all the way to Snowdin the first time.

x

The second time was the most jarring. You remember waking up in the patch of flowers, same as the first. Feeling so happy, grateful, _did Toriel come out of the ruins and find you_? Did she bring you back here? You thought you were a goner for sure, really dead.

(You were.)

But you know there’s something wrong when Toriel’s eyes don’t light up with recognition. She gives you the same speech as before, and even though you fear the worst you ask anyway,

“ _Have we ever met before_?”

She laughs. “I don’t believe so,” she says, “I think I would remember if a human left the underground and came back!” there’s just a hint of sadness in her eyes. You choose not to dwell on it.

You decide you can’t stay here for long this time. It’s all too deja-vu, makes you feel sick to your stomach. You pester her until she lets you go, and you head back into the familiar cold.

And this time, when you meet Sans, you turn around and shake his hand before he even asks you. The look on his face probably mirrors your own the first time this happened, and the thought alone makes you laugh. You don’t know if Sans thinks its from the whoopie cushion or not, but he looks pleased nonetheless.

You actually pay attention to the antics of the two brothers, not being so distracted by the shock of seeing two skeletons. It provides you with relief in the midst of all the confusion, and while you still feel sick to your stomach, focusing on Papyrus’s puzzles helps take your mind off of it.

You learn this time. You give a timely laugh at Snowdrake’s pun, and roll around in the snow like a puppy.

Being in Snowdin is like a breath of fresh air, something brand new for once. You explore everything you can, because…

If this was a dream, it sure didn’t seem like you were waking up anytime soon.

There’s only so much to do though, and eventually you have to move on. You lose to Papyrus’s challenge _once, twice,_ three times, but apparently he isn’t after your soul because he never takes it. Eventually, he lets you go.

When you make it to the waterfall, Sans is there. You should be surprised, but it really isn’t all that surprising at all considering how he always seemed to be everywhere. What _is_ surprising is him offering to take you to Grillby’s.

You settle on the topic of his brother once you’re there, head still spinning a bit from his “shortcut”.

“Isn’t my bro cool?”

Your feet don’t _quite_ touch the ground, sitting on the barstool, so you swing them lightly. It was a habit you retained from your childhood.

You think of Papyrus and his dorky outfit.

You also think of the way he so valiantly “spared” you, as if you had beaten him.

“Definitely.” you answer, and it’s the truth. “Cool _and_ kind. Pretty great combination.”

Sans grins. “Wow, with an answer like that I’d think you’d want to _bone_ him.”

You choke on your fries, beating your chest while coughing. The skeleton looks unconcerned, and when you’re finally able to breath again you respond. “ _No_! That was-- an awful pun! That was an awful _everything_!”

“Oh. Too early in the mornin’ for sex jokes, huh?”

“I honestly have no idea _what_ time it is down here.” you respond, “And second, I couldn’t even think of your brother that way. He’s too… Too…”

You struggle to find the words. _Childish_ doesn’t seem right. Maybe innocent?

“Well, he’s a skeleton anyway. I mean, would that even… How would….” you trail off, realizing that there’s heat climbing to your face. They were skeletons, but they _monster_ skeletons, so maybe their anatomy was different…?

“Man. Who thinks lewd things about someone’s brother with them sitting _right next_ to them?”

“I-I wasn’t!” you sputter, slamming your hands down on the counter so hard the fries jump off the plate. If you’re causing a scene, Sans doesn’t seem to care. “I mean, not about your brother-- no, not about you either!” feeling the need to clarify at Sans’s face, you finally groan. “I meant, just in general maybe… Oh god. Um, t _hanks for the food I gotta go bye_.”

You rush off before you can put your foot in your mouth even more. You were never the epitome of graceful, but you had never been quite _that_ inelegant with your words before. Brushing it off on the mere craziness of talking with a real monster, you head back towards Waterfall and push it to the back of your mind.

You get pretty far, but in the end you die to Undyne’s spear.

x

The third time you wake up, you’re confused. You’re back here? But you were all the way in--

Oh.

You’re not a rocket scientist, but it doesn’t take one to figure it out as you lay there.

The undoing of everything frustrates you. You had gotten so far! _You had gotten_ so _far!_

You can’t even bring yourself to answer any of Toriel’s questions with more than a half-hearted yes or no answer. You know the process, you get yourself out of the ruins and into the cold.

Again.

You’re dragging this time.. Not even the brothers’ antics cheer you up this time, at least not by much. It takes such a long time to get to Snowdin, that even though there's no sun you can tell it's getting to be night.

“Alright, spill. What’s up with you? You’ve been givin’ me the _cold_ shoulder, not even more than a single chuckle at any of my puns.” Sans arrives so abruptly next to you that it startles you for a moment. “Got a little _ice_ in your soul?”

You pause, unsure of what to say. “Just uh. Little tired.”

“Penny for your thoughts?”

You give a noncommittal shrug.

“Come on, throw me a bone here.”

Somehow, you manage to find the care enough to wonder if he does puns on purposes or if they just come natural to him and he rolls with it. Neither would surprise you.

“I just have a lot on my mind, I guess.” you wonder if they have places they send mentally ill people, down here. If he would think you were nuts if you said the truth. “You know. Missing family and such.”

You couldn’t remember anything before falling down here besides your name. You had no idea if you even had a family.

But this must seem logical to Sans, because he relents. “Hey. I’m sorry. Listen, it’s getting dark out, and if you need a place to… Recharge or whatever, me and Paps have a couch in our house.” he scratches the back of his skull. “It’s not great, but between you and me, it’s probably better than the Inn.”

You raise an eyebrow.

“Well, okay. Cheaper at least.”

You’re finding it harder and harder to find a point to anything, but you agree to stay for a night. Papyrus is so excited when you get there that he makes three entire pans of terrible-tasting spaghetti and puts on a cheesy movie.

Everything feels so natural here that you almost, _almost_ , forget about it all.

But eventually, you do fall asleep and morning does come, and you do leave. You do travel through waterfall.

(Again.)

And you do die, to Undyne.

(Again.)

x

 

You’re not surprised this time when you wake up in the patch of flowers. This had to be some sort of test. Maybe, if you did something different, time would not start over.

You go through the motions. This time, you’re a little more receptive to Toriel. She was just being kind, and this wasn’t her fault. You tell her cinnamon instead of butterscotch, for once. It doesn’t make a difference, as far as you know-- but maybe in some surreal way it would have an impact on whatever was going on.

It doesn’t hit you until you’re already at Snowdin that every time you’ve started over, was because you died. And sure, it didn’t seem like you could avoid that without giving up on getting out, but--

But maybe that wouldn’t be so bad.

You didn’t even know if you had anywhere you were supposed to belong above ground, anyway. Maybe ignorance _was_ bliss.

You ask Sans if you could crash a couple days at their place. Just to test the waters, at least, while you figured out a more permanent solution. He seems slightly surprised, but doesn’t say no.

“I mean, I guess I’ll have to ask my other pair of slippers to move somewhere else. They’ll be okay with it. Probably.”

You smile as he gives you a wink. It feels so _natural_ , here, and you realize that you’re actually more comfortable than you were back in the Ruins with Toriel. You realize, that makes no sense-- Toriel had been more accommodating, for sure.

But there was something about Sans that you couldn’t quite pin down, that made him fun to be around. You were certain you weren’t the only one affected by this. It was almost like he had an air about him that made him likable, trustworthy. Maybe it was that constant smile on his face.

(You realize, in hindsight, that this train of thought is incredibly stupid, but you would have rather eaten one of Toriel’s snail pies before admitting what the real answer was.)

Papyrus was excited, of course. A multi-night sleepover, with his brother and newest friend? It was like something straight out of his dreams. You figured, for a smile that bright, you could even suffer through three-course-three-times-a-day meals of his infamous spaghetti.

You remember this as the best three days you can remember. There was a new hope in you, and for once, you could smile again without it being weighed down by anything. You had two good friends, regardless if they were skeletons. You had everything you could need, right here.

Sans takes you out a few more times, sensing your dread whenever Papyrus mentions the meal of the day ( _Spaghetti_!). You really appreciate it, even if he does pull the trick where he loosens the ketchup cap so the condiment spills all over your burger. Staring at it, you slowly tighten the cap back on, place the ketchup onto the counter, and pick up the burger.

“ _Bone_ appetit.” you say, grinning as Sans watches you. He looks impressed, if not a bit surprised.

“You’re really going to eat it like that?”

“There’s _no_ such thing as too much ketchup.”

If it’s even possible, his grin gets wider than it previously was. “A diehard ketchup lover _and_ you just used a pun? Truly, a human after my own heart.”

You smile at the compliment, feeling another blush crawl up. Before he notices, you smush your face into the burger, completely covered in ketchup. _A safer kind of red face_ , you think. He gapes.

“Uh. You might have a little something there.” he says, his face going from surprised to mildly concerned. You laugh awkwardly, sounding a little too forced when you respond,

“Ha ha! Um, my hand must have slipped! I guess I just really, really love ketchup!”

He looks unconvinced. “It would do a lot better in your mouth than all over your face then, I think.”

“No. This is my fetish.”

You blurt the first thing that came to mind without thinking, and then wonder how the hell your conversations at Grillby’s always seem to turn sexual (and awkward). At that moment, you remember really wishing you could have just shoved your entire face into the burger and then excused yourself.

Even Sans, who always had some sort of comeback for anything you said, seemed at a loss. He quickly recovered though, after a beat of awkward silence, grin sliding back onto his face. “Should I write that down for future reference then?”

You _hated_ his teasing, especially like this. Groaning, you wiped the remaining ketchup off your face with a napkin. “Please ignore me when I say stuff like that. I have a terrible sense of humor. _Seriously_.”

“I think it’s great you’re so honest with me. Hey, looks like the ketchup stained your cheeks?” you reach up to touch them, and he chuckles. “Oh, nevermind. Guess it was just you blushing.”

You shove the napkin up where his nose and walk out, hoping the chilly air would cool you down. You felt ridiculously hot.

Not having anywhere else to go, you head back to the brothers’ house and plop down on the couch, face-first into a pillow. What was _with_ you? You were acting like some little schoolgirl with a crush--

No.

…

It _couldn’t_ be.

You grab the pillow from under you and force it over your head, as if that will block any incoming thoughts. Forcing yourself to think of something else entirely, you don’t realize that you’re drifting off.

In your sleep, you feel someone cover you with a blanket, and mumble a groggy thanks. All you hear in response is a soft chuckle, and the sound of slippers shuffling away as you go back to dreaming.

x

 

You wake up in a bed of golden flowers. And you scream.

You scream loud. There’s no one there to hear you, not yet anyway. Toriel isn’t due for at least a few more minutes. In a tearful fit, you tear up the flowers you were laying on just before, picking their petals off and ripping them apart. You grab the stick laying next to you, and throw it.

Why.

 _Why_!?

You hadn’t died. Not that you know of-- at least, you hadn’t been killed.

You were peaceful.

You were _happy_.

Was this your hell, your personal punishment for something you had done before? Was that why you couldn’t remember anything from before but were forced to relive this, over and over and over and--

Enough.

You raise your head. _Enough_ , this wasn’t doing you any good. There had to be a way out, and you’d find it, even if it took trial and error. You’d _find it_.

You cannot find it in yourself to be as friendly to Toriel as you have been before. You’re not nasty, just in a rush, and you can tell her feelings are hurt. You don’t meet her eyes, not the entire time you fight. You finally win, and leave her behind, distraught, as you had done so many times before.

(It really shouldn’t still bother you.)

You make your way toward Snowdin, path so familiar by now that you’re sure you couldn’t get lost if you tried. You’re interrupted, right on cue, by Sans, and you follow through with the motions.

But as you go to shake his hand, you meet his eyes just briefly and--

You can’t. You just can’t do it. Your vision of him becomes blurry as your eyes fill up with tears and you let out a short, pathetic sob. He frowns, unsure of what to make of this and for some reason this just upsets you more. You can barely see him through your watery vision, but for some reason you can just _sense_ his distress and it throws you over the edge.

You cry out loud for the first time since all of this began.

It isn’t pretty, it’s loud and ugly and you throw your arm over your eyes to try and hide your face. Sans moves closer, wrapping bony arms around you and you don’t have the energy to push him off, to say “ _no, I don’t want you to see me like this_ ”. You shake in his embrace and he pets your hair, and somewhere inside your rational mind is thinking: _what a wreck_.

“I’m so sorry.” he mumbles, and you’re not sure what he means. You’re not even sure if he knows what he means, what he’s apologizing for. But you two stay there, crouched in the snow until your tears freeze to your face and you know you’re running out of time before Papyrus shows up.

He stands up just before his brother is due, and reaches out a hand to help you to your feet.

Things progress as normal. He doesn’t say anything about your breakdown, and if Papyrus notices the snot and tears dried to your face he doesn’t say anything either. Sans does seem a bit more cautious towards you than normal, but that doesn’t stop his puns and large grin.

You wish you could stop time. (You wish you could _rewind_ time.)

But time doesn’t stop, so neither do you. It’s not late by the time you get to Snowdin, and honestly, even if it was you’re beyond the point of caring.

(It’s not like it changes much around here, anyway.)

You don’t stop at the brothers’ house before you leave, and you have to fight to not give a glance towards Sans as you enter Waterfall.

It’s a random monster that kills you this time, before you reach Undyne. You can’t remember which.

x

 

You wake up in the same spot as always.

You don’t leave the ruins.

A few days later, you wake up in the flowers again.

x

 

You go through stages, flipping between hopeful to despair-ridden on a dime. Some resets you handle better than others. You spend a lot of time in Snowdin. Sometimes you sit in different places in Waterfall and dangle your feet into the water, or say things to the flowers just so you can hear your own voice repeated back to you:

“ _Loves me, loves me not. Loves me… Loves me not_.”

You never pluck the petals from the flowers, though.

x

Seeing Sans and being friendly to him is hard, but completely ignoring him is even worst.

“So what’s your family like?” he asks, one reset at Grillby’s. At the very least, you can always count on these moments to take your mind off things. You shrug.

“Who knows. Maybe I don’t even have one.”

He looks surprised. You don’t know why, though you assume it probably had to do with the fact that it seemed most monsters down here were pretty connected to their families. “Really?”

“Yeah. I don’t… Have any memories, before falling here. Why?”

“... Nah. No reason.”

x

You even manage to defeat Undyne, once, through pure perseverance and determination. It’s refreshing to see a new place with new faces, but it doesn’t last. Not long after you meet Alphys, everything is reset again and you’re back at square one.

x

 

It’s not hard to find weapons in the underground, but you’ve never paid much attention to them before. You don’t have any memories, but you feel like you were the type of person to not even want to harm a fly.

Sometimes you do wonder, though. If everything is going to reset, who cares anyway?

x

 

You do it. There’s dust on you and on the toy knife you used, there’s dust everywhere. It was surprisingly easy to do, you realize, much easier than dodging and talking and dodging and bargaining and--

You won’t let yourself end that train of thought. You curl up in the ground, in the ashes of the only mother figure you’ve ever known, and wait for the next round to come.

x

 

If the only thing you can remember

x

is this hell you’re stuck in, with no one remembering you, forever and ever,

x

and the way you figure it, you only have one out--

x

\-- and even if you’re figuring wrong, everything will just reset anyway--

x

anyone would have done what you did. Right?

 _Right_?

x

God, it was so easy. _So_ easy. Most of them, they were one hit. The ones that weren’t were a challenge.

(A pleasant challenge? By this point you’re so lost you don’t even know anymore _who are you_? Did you even know in the first place?)

At several points you feel like you’re going to throw up, you want to throw up, like that’s the one shred of humanity you can still cling to. Yeah you can commit mass murder but you can still throw up over it so it’s okay, right?

You want out so bad you’re willing to see the look in Sans eyes after you killed Papyrus, dust on the ground and in your hair, like making you physically dirty was reflective of how tainted your own soul had become.

You blink back tears. Sans doesn’t show up where he usually does. Sans doesn’t show up anywhere, and you’re alone the entire way and despite the heat of the Hotlands you feel like ice.

But it works, you get further-- _much_ further than you ever did before. There’s a certain power in having everyone fear you, and for the most part monsters stay out of your way. Less dust on your hands.

You don’t see him until you’re almost at the end. So close you can _taste_ it. But you’re disgusted by yourself, so grungy and desperate.

“You don’t have to do this.”

His words pierce right through you, not that you’d let him know it. Your grip tightens on the knife in your right hand. There’s a drop of sweat that rolls down his skeletal face.

“Come on.” he eyes the knife. You resist the urge to hide it behind your back, or tuck it into your dust-covered pocket. “ _It doesn’t have to be this way._ Not now.”

God, your head hurts. Throbbing, even. _Not now_. He’s right-- isn’t he? But no, you’ve done this so many times, there’s--

no other way?

You meet his eyes. It hurts, because you recognize a flash of _something_ in them that pulls at your heart. But you’re so far gone by now, it’s almost ironic-- who was the real _monster_ here?

You give Sans the Skeleton a peaceful smile.

“I couldn’t even if I actually wanted to.” your grip loosens, but he never takes his eyes off of you. Overly cautious, as he should be. You can’t blame him for that, but it still hurts. “Not you. Who kills the person most precious to them?”

You lift the knife up again, and his eye flares blue, with both confusion and fear. “What are you-- don’t--”

“I won’t.” you promise him, and you’re not lying. You turn the knife towards yourself, over your soul. He shakes, a mixture of surprise and horror.

“Wait. Stop--”

“I’m sorry. I thought this that this was-- I’ll figure out another way. So let’s forget about this, okay?”

Sans yells out something else but you can’t hear him over your shattered heart.

x

 

You wake up in a bed of golden flowers, but that’s happened so many times now that for once... You’re relieved.

And filled with determination.

 


	2. Chapter 2

“You don’t have to do this.”

You look up, through him for a moment, like he’s a ghost made out of thin air. Your eyes refocus and he sweats, watching you carefully grip the knife. Your hand twitches.

He’s aware of your every movement.

It’s not a good thing.

He repeats himself again and you look like you’re having an internal battle-- eyes looking down, unfocused again, before darting back up to meet his.

You give him a serene smile, and if he had a physical, beating heart like you did, it probably would have bottomed out.

“I couldn’t even if I actually wanted to.”

x

If only you knew.

The first time Sans sees you, it’s almost a little jarring. The promise of _if_ a human ever came out of the ruins always seemed so distant, like _yeah it was a possibility but who was really gonna fall down that mountain and survive anyway_?

( _You_ , apparently. For all your refusal to die and give up, Sans supposes that does make sense.)

But his surprise to see an alive human was nothing compared to the horrific expression on your face at seeing _him_. Of course, it was no offense meant and none taken-- you’d looked like you’d been through some shit already.

He manages to pull a few, forced laughs from you, but you still don’t seem to loosen up and he wonders what it’s like to feel so out of place.

Sans made a promise that he broke, and he knows this when he sees your unconscious, wounded body buried in the snow.

x

 

Time repeats itself over. Sans is quick on the uptake, but not immediate. Papyrus does the same thing every morning, anyway-- wakes him up way too loudly, bangs around in the kitchen, leaves some spaghetti for him for breakfast and leaves.

But the little monster kid outside is doing the same thing he did yesterday, trying to roll a snowball by nudging it around with his nose. He falls flat down in front of the tree ( _the exact same place as before_ ) and it gives Sans such a violent feeling of deja-vu that he pretends not to see this time, instead of chuckling and helping them up like the last.

(He always did try and make himself a friendly presence.)

The thing that confirms his thoughts is _you_ , stumbling out of the ruins again. But ironically enough, you also manage to be the one outlier-- instead of fear flashing through your eyes, there’s confusion and something else he can’t quite read. You’re quicker this time, more alert, and your reflexes don’t even fail you when he comes up from behind to shake your hand.

He hears a genuine laugh come from you. It’s a nice sound.

You play along a lot more whole-heartedly this time, and he wonders what caused the change. It’s almost like he’s looking at a completely different person. But--

maybe he’s just looking at a new side instead.

He watches from a distance this time, making sure he doesn’t take his eyes off of you. If this was some sort of way to make up for the broken promise to the woman in the ruins, he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

He knows that Papyrus would do nothing to injure you, but it’s still nerve wracking to watch the fight. He still has the image of you, curled up in the snow, burned into the back of his mind. He watches you fail, be taken back to the garage, get back up and fail _again_ , and is almost impressed. You’re not up to snuff with Papyrus ( _heh, who would be_ ) but the amount of determination you have is commendable.

When Papyrus finally lets you pass, Sans is already at his post in Waterfall. You look at him like you almost _expected_ this, before giving him a small grin.

What a person.

You and him head to Grillby’s, and your collected answer to his question about Papyrus sounds so genuine when you say it it’s a little bit adorable. Despite everything you had been through so far you were nearly unflappable. It really made him want…

… to see what could make you tick.

“Wow, with an answer like that I’d think you’d want to _bone_ him.”

It works. You start coughing and sputtering, like the very thought was _horrible_ (and to be honest, it was kind of a _horrible_ thought to him too -- but your reaction was more than worth it) but instead what you comment on is the goddamn _pun_.

But he’s not about to be upstaged so he pokes farther, grin never leaving his face. It’s almost like you’re digging yourself in your very own hole, words spewing out of your mouth faster than you can catch them. You’re looking more and more mortified by the second, like you can’t stop this verbal-diarrhea train of thought and it’s just all just way _too good_.

“Man. Who thinks lewd things about someone’s brother with them sitting _right next_ to them?”

He finally manages to embarrass you enough that you excuse yourself from the diner and run out, nearly tripping over yourself to get out of the restaurant.

That was the most fun he had had in _months_ , even ignoring Grillby’s disapproving look.

It’s too bad there’s nothing he can do to save you when you’re taken off-guard by Undyne’s spea, stabbing you right through. He can’t manage to look away as the light leaves your eyes.

Triumphantly, Undyne takes your soul and Sans looks over your bloody body.

Promise broken, again.

x

 

The third time is even worse that than the first. At least that time you had been a little bit receptive, but this time you look so depressed that it almost hurts to even look at your crestfallen face. He wonders what could have happened-- what could be so different this time that you would act like _this_ , so he asks.

“Just uh. Little tired.” you lie. He senses there’s more to it, so he presses--

And you tell him about your family. He’s surprised, because you hadn’t mentioned them before. But of course you had to have a family. And of course it would hurt, being so far away from them in an unusual place, not sure if you would ever see them again.

You’re lying through your teeth, but he doesn’t sense that and offers you a place to stay, the only thing he can think to help you out. It’s stupid and at your face he almost thinks about qualifying it (something like “ _but it’s no harm done if not I understand our house is kind of messy anyway_ ”) but before he can, you agree.

If there’s one thing Sans can always be thankful for, it’s Papyrus. He makes everyone a meal so big that they’d probably be eating leftovers for two weeks, before insisting on a “framily” (friends and family) movie.

Sans notes that, for the first time this entire loop, you look happy.

(You leave anyway in the morning and die in the exact same way as the last loop. There’s blood everywhere and he starts to wonder if this is less of a second chance and more of an eternal hell.)

x

 

When he meets you the next time, you’re not depressed or overly happy or frightened. You give him a big smile and a hearty laugh at his puns and it’s maybe the most “normal” he’s ever seen you.

(But if a person is different every time you see them, how do you judge what normal is anyway?)

That’s why, when you ask him if you can crash a couple nights at his place instead of moving on, he’s taken aback. You somehow never fail to surprise him-- he feels like he could repeat this a thousand times and you’d do something that would take him off-guard.

He makes some lame joke about moving his slippers and your face lights up so genuinely that Sans has to look away.

He finally looks back and gives you a wink, and wonders if he’s just imagining the pink on your cheeks.

These next few days are the best he can remember. You look so genuinely happy, Papyrus looks so genuinely happy, and it’s infectious. There are snowball fights had, more cheesy movies, at one point you “accidentally” spill the entire pot of spaghetti Papyrus had just made all over the floor and oops, _I guess you can’t eat anymore of that_!

As the other skeleton laments over how there’s only enough leftovers for just one of you, Sans so graciously offers to take you and him to Grillby’s so Papyrus can eat the rest of it. Reluctantly, Papyrus agrees, and you thank Sans profusely when you get out of earshot of him.

When you get there, you make a pun for the first time in Sans presence as your burger is drowning in ketchup and he thinks, for maybe the fiftieth time,

 _what a person_.

He feels like he’s known you a lot longer than he has, and in a way, he supposes he really _has_ known you for a lot longer than you’ve known him.

Thankfully he still knows exactly what to do to make you tick.

“A diehard ketchup lover _and_ you just used a pun? Truly, a human after my own heart.”

But your reaction is a little bit more extreme than he had anticipated, as you start to turn a very interesting color before completely face-planting into your burger.

If there was one thing he would never be able to pin down about you, it would be your reactions when you’re flustered.

“You might have a little something there.”

You dart out a tongue to the side, licking only a small portion of the ketchup smeared over your face, as you give an awkward laugh. “Guess I just really, _really_ love ketchup!”

You are so goddamn awful at covering up your embarrassment, and Sans _knows_ it. He gives you a look that reads entirely ‘that’s absolute bullshit’, before saying, “It would do a lot better in your mouth than all over your face then, I think.”

A million years of studying your habits could not have prepared Sans for what comes out of your mouth next, and for once he really _is_ at a loss for words.

“No. This is my fetish.”

He gapes at you.

You look like you want to die. He wonders where your filter manages to _go_ sometimes. The red on your cheeks is visible even through the coating of wet ketchup, and almost gives your face the look of glowing. Sans manages to recover before you do, shit-eating grin returning to his face as he continues to tease you.

You groan, scrambling for a napkin. Before you can find any Sans hands you one, and he notes that you’re careful not to accidentally brush his hand. Briefly, he wonders if maybe you would explode from embarrassment if that happened.

You make up another lame excuse about having a terrible sense of humor as he points out the redness coating your cheeks that’s _certainly_ not from ketchup.

You sputter again, and he watches you curiously as you attempt to cover up the color with your hands, before grabbing an unused napkin. With a short moment of deliberation, your eyes darting back and forth between him and the ketchup-covered paper--

you shove it straight up his nose cavity. He make a weird wheezing noise as he pulls it out, looking up just in time to see you stomping out of the diner. He glances back up to see Grillby’s disapproving glare once again, and this time he offers nothing but a grin.

“What? Come on, you have to admit they’re funny when flustered.”

He shrinks back slightly.

“Man. You have a glare that could cut glass if it wanted to. Okay, I’ll lay off a little bit. Would be pretty messy if they actually blew up or something from embarrassment.” he grins, but the images of your bloody corpse stay with him.

When he comes back home he finds you laying on the couch, pillow held tight over your head like you could somehow block out your own intrusive thoughts. He sighs and grabs a blanket, draping it over your body.

He hears you mumble out a groggy thanks, and chuckles, shuffling away.

“Looks like more than just one person really cares about you, kiddo.”

x

 

It _really_ sucks when Sans wakes up in the morning and you’re missing from the couch, not a trace you were ever there in the first place. No shoes, nothing, and Papyrus is making breakfast-spaghetti in the kitchen.

“You’re up surprisingly early!” he says, loud as ever, and Sans just stands there.

“... There wasn’t anybody crashing here last night, was there?”

Papyrus pauses, stopping his stirring of the noodles to give his brother a strange look. “Sans! Have you been so lazy lately your memory is starting to go bad too? You need more puzzles in your life! Undyne hasn’t been here in over a week, and she was our last guest!”

He pauses.

“Right. ‘Course. My bad Paps. I’m uh, gonna skip out of breakfast today and just head out to my post.” before Papyrus can say anything else Sans is gone.

Time had reset again, and he had no idea why. Did something come attack you in the night? He would have heard that. Did you die peacefully in your sleep? _Why_?

He thinks back to the promise. Was he even fighting to not break it, or…

Was he fighting to keep you alive for another reason?

It’s too early for you to be here yet, but you come out of the ruins exceptionally early this time. He wonders what would have happened if he hadn’t gotten up early himself. Maybe that was never an option at all, maybe it’s always just all connected by fate.

(He didn’t know if he even believed in fate, but if he did he knew it was one _cruel_ motherfucker.)

He follows you, carefully, an action he’s done so many times before. You go to shake his hand, right on cue, but you look up into his eyesockets and--

You just collapse into one big, sobbing mess. Sans doesn’t know what to do. He had never seen you like this-- depressed, maybe, but crying? Never. He awkwardly crouches down and holds you, wonders what could have broken you to this point.

He wonders if, maybe, there’s any memory of him inside of you and that’s what caused all this.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, even though he’s not entirely sure what he’s apologizing for. For not being able to stop all this? For letting you die, over and over and over?

You were not the one he should be apologizing to for that.

Their time is running short. He can’t hold your trembling body like this forever, so he slowly stands up and reaches out a hand to help you up, too. Papyrus arrives right on time, acting like nothings wrong at all. You wipe the snot and tears onto your sleeves and because you look like you’re trying your best to get through this, Sans does too.

You’re friendly enough but still distant, and despite how much it hurts Sans doesn’t say anything when you pass by him on your way to waterfall.

But you’re still too visibly shaken, not on your best guard, and a random monster kills you before you ever even reach Undyne’s spears. Sans doesn’t do anything to stop this, because he can only help so much and you were headed for destruction with tears in your eyes anyway.

x

 

He waits for you, but you never come.

He waits, and waits, and waits. Morning passes, afternoon, an entire day.

But you _never come_.

x

 

He watches you come and go, what seems like a million times. Sometimes you’re happier than others, eager to help out. Other times you look like you’d rather be dead.

(That’s usually exactly how you end up.)

He remembers watching you hang out around waterfall, idly staring at the echo flowers. You would run a finger across each pedal, _loves me, loves me not_.

Every time it would end on loves me not, you’d look discouraged. But you never picked the petals off.

x

 

After awhile, you stop every attempt to ignore him. He isn’t sure why, but you at least look a little happier while he’s around and he wishes he could just go on this adventure _with_ you, by your side and always in your sight.

“So what’s your family like?” he asks, once, realizing that as much as he knows about you he knows _so little_. You shrug and tell him the truth: you don’t know.

His confusion is obvious. That’s not what you told him before-- did you lie that time? Did you hit your head on the way down this time? You notice his surprise, and respond.

“Yeah. I don’t… Have any memories, before falling here.” you swallow like it was tough to think about. “Why?”

“... Nah. No reason.”

He’d never met anyone who was more of an enigma than himself, before now.

x

 

Once, you’re particularly good. Alert, excellent at dodging attacks. You make it past Undyne, and don’t even stop there. He wonders what it would mean, if you managed to get all the way. Would all of this stop? Would he never see you again?

He doesn’t get to find out. You linger too long after meeting Alphys and the world is reset.

x

 

There’s a weird look in your eye, he sees it sometimes when you’re fighting monsters. But you’ve never harmed anyone yet-- why would he worry about that?

You always snap out of it, and spare them in the end anyway.

x

 

You don’t come again.

He gets an awful feeling in the pit of his stomach this time though, for some reason.

x

 

Sometimes he wonders, what the cause of all this is

x

 

Is it your fault? Or are you just as trapped--

x

 

unless you’re causing this, but....

x

 

How can he think that when he sees you stumble out of the ruins with tears in your eyes, right?

 _Right_?

x

 

You made it look so easy, absolutely ruthless. Cutting down anything that came into your path-- into your vision, on a determined (sick) quest.

Papyrus didn’t even want to fight you. You showed him no mercy.

 _None_.

You won’t meet his gaze but Sans can still see the desperation in your eyes, masked over with emptiness. You don’t want to look at him but you can’t seem to help yourself after Papyrus’s ashes are floating through the air, eyes darting up.

You look so far _away_.

He keeps his distance this time. He keeps thinking-- eventually you’ll get shut down, you can’t keep dodging attacks for forever. But ruthlessness turns out to be your best quality because you cut down everyone head on. It’s farthest you’ve ever gotten, in this little adventure, and the mentally farthest he’s ever seen you gone.

He can’t take it anymore. You’ll ruin everything, if you leave will that be the end? Will you be gone-- gone like _emotions_ gone like _Papyrus_ gone like the disappearing, hiding underground dwellers?

Will it, for once, all be _real_? No more take-backs?

He can hardly even imagine a world where things have consequences again.

Sans confronts you in a long corridor and you stop in front of him, knife in hand. He’s never seen you this dirty. The metal weapon in your hand gleams.

“You don’t have to do this.”

You look up, through him for a moment, like he’s a ghost made out of thin air. Your eyes refocus and he sweats, watching you carefully grip the knife. Your hand twitches.

He’s aware of your every movement.

It’s not a good thing.

He repeats himself again and you look like you’re having an internal battle-- eyes looking down, before darting back up to meet his.

You give him a serene smile, and if he had a physical, beating heart like you did it probably would have bottomed out.

“I couldn’t even if I actually wanted to.” your grip loosens, but he never takes his eyes off of you. Overly cautious, he wishes he didn’t feel the need to be. “Not you. Who kills the person most precious to them?”

It’s an internal-conflict nightmare. He wants to ask you what you _mean_ , but you’re carefully, slowly raising the knife up. Your hand is shaky, like you’re nervous, and all he can manage out is a pathetic “What are you-- don’t--”

His magic flares up, reflexively, and you spin the knife around to point at yourself. He shivers.

“Wait. Stop--”

“I’m sorry. I thought this that this was... I’ll figure out another way. So let’s forget about this, okay?”

There’s something entirely not right about this situation. He’s never seen you like this and it’s heartwrenching, you’re broken and he’s broken and he’s _not ready to start over again_ , not yet, not before he gets some damn answers from you. But before he can even get another word out you’ve done it, the sound of your soul shattering apart.

For you, time reset immediately.

But for him, he was left staring at your broken body just another time until the day ends again.

x

 

Sans wakes up in his own room to the sound of Papyrus noisily making breakfast spaghetti downstairs.

He wonders if he’s allowed to take any sick days off from his job.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this got a surprising amount of support and i'm so happy!!! thank you guys so much! i dont think ive ever written a chapter this fast before (the undertale fandom has no chill people update like 3 times a day) but i had so much fun and aaaah i love ALL OF YOU GUYS who read and kudos and comment and bookmark gosh ////

**Author's Note:**

> HUFFS
> 
> i'm so sorry if you read that all the way through because i feel like there's so much better sans/reader stuff to read get the heck outta here
> 
> this will probably be a 3 parter. sorry if there's a ton of typos and stuff i went back through it but rereading your own stuff is so hard!! ALSO IT TOOK 3 HOURS TO FIX THE PARAGRAPH GAPS I HAAAATE AO3'S TEXT EDITOR CHRIST ON A CHARA


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